Sopor Addled Trolls
by Chirijiradin
Summary: A collection of off the wall crackfics, some connected, some stand alone, and all are bound to be insane.


**Author's Notes: **OK. Homestuck seems to not have much, if any, crackfics. Lets fix that, shall we?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Homestuck. Nor do I own Parliament Funkadelic's epic piece of win called Give Up the Funk.

So lawyers can fuck off.

* * *

**Be the Coolkid**:

"…Dear fuck, this place is dull."

"Dave, you have an Iphone. There has to be something to keep you occupied for more than five minutes."

Dave opened his mouth to say something, but his purple eyed ectosister beat him to it,

"And tormenting Karakt into another bout of frothing at the mouth is not acceptable"

"Geez, way to ruin my fun, Lalonde. That's like the only thing worth doing anymore…"

Sighing, he pulled the Iphone out of his sylladex, as well as a pair of clunky as all hell headphones. Rose simply raised an eyebrow at the archaic piece of crap he called headphones.

"Hey. Quit eyeing my choice 'phones, Lalonde. Don't you know? Vintage is the shit."

"I think you mean vintage is shit, but whatever you say, Strider."

Responding with a simple one fingered salute (Three guesses which finger. The first two don't count), the self-proclaimed Coolkid sauntered off to the transportalizer, and shortly arrived at his destination. The most out of reach place on this entire desolate rock. Dave plopped down, Iphone in hand, and putting inrionically shitty headphones back into his sylladex. So far down here, nobody would really be able to hear his music.

Setting his volume to the absolute maximum, he started the last song he was on, only a few seconds left on the track.

"Oh hell yes."

And so the next song started.

**Be Someone Else**:

You are now Gamzee Makara, and you are currently listening to one of the most absolutely miraculous things to grace your presence.

"_You've got a real type of thing going down, getting down, there's a whole lot of rhythm going round…"_

Eyes widening to almost comical proportions, he started to walk in an almost hypnotized fashion towards the…the…what the motherfuck even _is_ that glorious noise?

"_You've got a real type of thing going down, getting down, there's a whole lot of rhythm going round…"_

You peek around the corner, sure you've fond the music's source and…aw, hell. It's _that _motherfucker.

"_Ow, we want the funk, Give up the funk, Ow, we need the funk, We gotta have that funk, Ow we want the funk, Give up the funk, Ow we need the funk, gotta have that funk._

…Fuck it. Totally worth being seen if you can chill to that divine noise.

"You know, you could just ask to listen instead of trying to be a ninja or some shit. Because trust me, man. You make an absolutely shitty ninja."

…_MOTHERFUCK._

**Be the Coolkid again**:

Damn straight you want to be the Coolkid again, can't get enough of that magnificent bastard.

Taking a second to pause the song, you roll your eyes behind your tight as all hell shades, and say

"Come on, get your ass out here. I'm not starting this piece of awesome until you do."

Shuffling slowly form behind corner came that crazy juggalo.

Well shit.

You're still not sure if he's going to pull a majestic fucking pirouette off the handle, so you put your strife specibus to an easily accessible position. Because you really don't feel like dying. Especially having to explain to Saint Peter how you got there.

You can see it now…

"So son, how'd you die?"

"Got murdered by a crazy alien juggalo for dissing his fucked up clown religion."

"…Huh. Well, looks like you're going to hell."

"Alright, peace."

Oh, right he's just kinda staring at you. Dear Gog, you have making extended mataphors in your internal monologue, nobody can hear the sheer epicness flow like a waterfall of wisdom and irony-

"Uh…you gonna play that wicked sweet noise again, bro?"

…Shit. You did it again- Wait. WAIT A FUCKING SECOND.

"Did you just call this…_NOISE?"_

_No._

_Hell no._

_HELL FUCKING NO._

Nobody disses the funk_. _Fucking NOBODY_._

Your name is Dave Strider. You have a wide variety of INTERESTS, including MAKING ILL BEATS, IRONIC HUMOR, among other things. You have a PASSION for MUSIC, some for ironic purposes, but some because you LOVE THE SHIT OUT OF THEM. FUNK is one of those genres you LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY. Because SPACE PIMPS FROM PLANET SWAG is seriously the best thing ever.


End file.
